


Best Man

by wirewool



Category: Original Work
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 13:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5419211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewool/pseuds/wirewool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>”We’re behavioural specialists. Just because I didn’t get the time to figure you out, doesn’t mean that they won’t. They’ll find you, with or without my help.”<br/>Fausti, who had been kneeling down to talk to me at eye level where I sat, bound to the chair, stood up while smiling. There should have been arrogance on his face, but there was none to be seen.<br/>“You only know the guys that get caught. They’re the second best criminals.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Man

”We’re behavioural specialists. Just because I didn’t get the time to figure you out, doesn’t mean that they won’t. They’ll find you, with or without my help.”

Fausti, who had been kneeling down to talk to me at eye level where I sat, bound to the chair, stood up while smiling. There should have been arrogance on his face, but there was none to be seen.

“You only know the guys that get caught. They’re the second best criminals.”

 

Crime rates had been rising slowly but steadily over a period of several years, and despite some really good programs which reduced crime to the eye of the regular citizen, it only seemed to fester in some dark corners of the city. So why didn’t police just monitor those parts of the city, you ask? Because, thanks to the rise of social media and instant messaging, and particularly encrypted social messaging, as well as an abundance of public spaces and a change of focus from mainly physical crime to digital, or at least digitally organised and anonymised, there were no particularly “bad” areas in the sense that there had been before. Criminal planning took place among all the other brunch meetings in respected restaurants, with or without the knowledge of people around them, and because the sense of security was so high the population did not want to give up their privacy for crimes that “didn’t even happen”.

Of course, that didn't mean that surveillance didn't happen anyway, as Rüşen Peynirci was more than well aware. In fact, he was doing some surveilling right now.

As a behavioural specialist, it wasn't traditionally his job to go out undercover personally, but with these new encryption standards came new limitations, and while their technical department had sort of managed to work around them, the solution for some reason required the decryption agent to be physically close to the unit it was trying to spy on in order to work fast enough. Rüşen didn't really know why, he hadn't fully understood the explanation, and, frankly, he hadn't really bothered to listen. It wasn't his job to understand machines.

It was thus he found himself in a restaurant watching a suspected criminal through his government-issued, retro-round smart glasses, while lazily picking apart an omelette. (If there was one thing Rüşen appreciated that futuristic novels of the past had gotten wrong, it was that food was still food, and not 'nutrient capsules' or some similar kind of bullshit. While those certainly existed, they were only used for when people had to travel to extreme, hostile environments like space or deep-sea oceans where it was imperative to pack as much as possible into as little space (haha) as possible.) As he was reading through the conversation the woman he was surveilling was having on her own smart device, in the guise of a purse, it soon became clear that while the business proposal she was discussing could be potentially devastating for a number of employees that would have to be fired as part of a company merger, there was nothing directly illegal about it, and Rüşen closed down the surveillance app after sending a report to his superior. False alarm. As the GUI faded from his field of vision he placed the glasses back into their case and proceeded to actually eat the shredded omelette.

As he let his gaze wander around the room, passively registering the moods of its inhabitants - nervous, scornful, happy, depressed but hiding behind a smile, annoyed, and so on - he noticed a man with body language that at a first glance looked perfectly calm and relaxed, but when Rüşen studied it closer, something about it bothered him. He carefully studied the man's expressions through a mirror, but nothing in particular stood out as noteworthy. Still, something seemed off.

He turned his attention to the man's clothes instead. No smart lenses, but Rüşen recognised the ring on the man's right thumb as a smart ring from one of the more exclusive smart device design studios' later collections. Along with the rest of the clothes - a black polo shirt, a floral scarf, plain trousers and shiny black shoes, unremarkable items on their own but of unmistakeably high quality - and his carefully maintained and back-slicked blond hair he gave the impression of being of some affluence.

Rüşen must have stared for too long in his attempt to find what bothered him, because suddenly their eyes met through the mirror, and Rüşen caught the man's smile before he had time to look away. An embarrassing rookie mistake, but fortunately one that could easily be explained away if needed, since Rüşen, being someone who cared about good design, regularly ended up studying people with good style anyway, and had fortunately removed his smart glasses already anyway.

It seemed as that would not be necessary, though, as when Rüşen glanced back once more the man was already fully absorbed in his conversation with the person across him again. Seems he'd avoided any suspicion. Relieved, Rüşen finished his omelette in a calm manner, paid and left at a point which would leave him time to get back to the office at a time that people regularly made it back from lunch. Once he'd made it a few blocks away there was a sudden sharp pain to the back of his head, and then darkness.

 

Once he woke up, strangely, he felt no more pain. He couldn't move, though, and for a while he was scared that he was both blind and deaf and immobile until his senses gradually started coming back to him. His hearing came back first, there were two men talking nearby, but he couldn't quite make out what they were saying. After a while he recognised one voice as belonging to the man from the restaurant. The other was entirely unfamiliar.

Well, this confirmed his suspicions that the man was suspicious. Unfortunately, the only thing he could accuse him of was his own kidnapping. Which, of course, would be more than enough to get the man arrested, but it would bother him to not know why the man gave him strange vibes.

"—-nothing we can do about it now... We'll just have to be extra careful."

"What do we do about him, though? Do we let him go?"

"No. They won't let this rest, and I'm the only suspect. We'll have to keep him."

A shiver ran down Rüşen's spine. Not that he had expected his kidnappers to just let him walk out anyway, but the way the man said it, the casualness of it, was so strange. As if he was a sick puppy they'd found on the street and had to nurse back to health, not a grown man they'd knocked out and dragged home and apparently tied to a chair, it felt like. He kept his head down, not showing that he'd woken up, trying to figure out more about his situation. The case for the smart glasses were gone, as well as his own personal smart pen, and considering he wasn't wearing shoes anymore it was safe to assume that the tracker in them had never made it to this location either. So they were clever, thorough and/or routined. That did not bode well for him; he'd definitely have noticed if someone as fashionable as the blond man was someone under surveillance, which meant that he was a routined criminal who had never even been suspected of crime. Rüşen didn't like his odds of getting out of there.

They didn't seem to be on their way to talk about anything more important while in his presence, conscious or not, and there was only so much Rüşen could find out without seeing or interacting with his surroundings, so he slowly raised his head and opened his eyes.

And then blinked in surprise. He had expected a warehouse, or some dirty, forgotten cellar or something, not a bright and tastefully decorated living room with plants, expensive-looking sculptures and decorative lighting. There was even a grand piano in a corner. The only thing that stood out as odd was the apparent lack of any digital technology, from what Rüşen could see; apart from the ring on the blond man's hand and anything the... the, uh... cloaked... other man could be wearing, there didn't seem to be anything automated at all. Disconnected zones were incredibly rare nowadays, and didn't bring Rüşen any comfort. Any device could be hacked to find him if they could hop from one connected node to another, but even the best hackers can't hack something that doesn't even have anything to hack. It seemed his situation was even worse than he'd initially thought.

"I'm glad to see you're awake, Mr. Peynirci," the blond man said, and Rüşen frowned as he used his last name. They clearly knew exactly who he was, and although Rüşen Peynirci in no way was a very public person, he didn't doubt for a second that they had scraped the web for any and all information they had found, including his occupation. Which meant that they knew that he worked for the law enforcement part of the government. He definitely was not getting out of here in a hurry.

"No need to frown, sir. We realise that being tied to a chair in a strange place isn't exactly optimal, but we don't intend to hurt you more than this," the blond man continued, approaching him. The... cloaked man... followed a few steps behind. "I would shake your hand, but... Anyway, my name is Crofton Fausti and this is my good friend Iacchus Antoniou." The cloaked figure made a nodding gesture. Greek, Rüşen noted. He had no real, personal reason to dislike Greek people apart from turbulent history way back in the past, but still all his life there had been those half-joking, half-serious remarks about those Greek people. Also, this particular Greek person was just weird, dressed in a cloak with devil's horns and face half-covered by long hair collected in a side ponytail. Not to mention that Antoniou didn't seem overly thrilled about Rüşen either, though it was impossible to tell if that was due to nationality or just about the fact that he was their hostage. Either way, the fact that they were giving him their names, real or not, made it even more unlikely that they were planning to release him. Things were looking truly bleak.

"Where am I?" Rüşen asked, slowly.

"My home," Crofton smiled, "It isn't exactly equipped for hostage-holding, but you'll find that it would be rather difficult for you to escape on your own anyway, so it would be easier for all of us if you did not try; though I expect you will, regardless of what I say. Just, please do not touch the fences around the grounds if you do manage to get out. I've never directly committed a crime before and I would rather not that this escalates to murder."

"You'll forgive me if I find it very hard to believe that you've never committed crimes before," Rüşen said dryly, "Most people don't start out with kidnapping, at least not just because someone looked at them."

Crofton chuckled. "Well, I've definitely been involved in criminal activity for a long while, I just haven't been actively doing anything. I've been more of an, ah, advisor."

"Don't get any ideas, though," Iacchus interjected, "Crofton might not be very experienced when it comes to doing, but I've got all sorts of experience, and I will not hesitate to break your legs."

"Please do hesitate, Iacchus," Crofton shot a glance at Iacchus, "I want to have as little violence as possible on my property, please."

Iacchus shrugged.

"How long are you planning on keeping me here," Rüşen asked with growing dread.

Crofton looked bothered. "Well," he pursed his lips for a moment, "We can't really have you going anywhere and telling on us, so... until our plan has been executed?" Crofton looked over at Iacchus, who shrugged and nodded. "So, two years, at least?"

Rüşen gave a short, humourless laugh.

"You can't expect them not to search for and find me before that!"

"Oh, I'm sure they will look for you, at first. But they won't find you."

”We’re behavioural specialists. Just because I didn’t get the time to figure you out, doesn’t mean that they won’t. You can't kidnap them all. They’ll find you, with or without my help.”

Crofton, who had been kneeling down to talk to him at eye level where he sat, stood up while smiling. There should have been arrogance on his face, but there was none to be seen.

“You only know the guys that get caught. They’re the second best criminals.”

 

Rüşen wasn't sure how much time had passed — he was never given any device that could tell him the date or time, and there were no windows to show the position of the sun (or if there even was a sun anymore), and somehow asking for it didn't feel very appealing, at first, and meaningless, later. He did get food with some regularity, and Crofton stopped by to talk almost every probably-day, so from what little sense of time he had left Rüşen assumed that it had probably been at least about five months since his kidnapping.

He wasn't sure if it was the best or the worst part, but he'd grown to like at least Crofton — Iacchus and himself were still not really on speaking terms. At least Iacchus didn't seem hostile, which was something, he supposed, but he had read about and assisted on cases like these, where kidnapped people (he didn't like to think of himself as a 'victim') grew to like, or love, and depend on their abductors. Stockholm syndrome they called it, after the location where the first such documented case happened. Those people were 'ill' and 'deluded', and they didn't realise they were being manipulated. Rüşen did realise that there was a whole lot of manipulation involved, but he still couldn't find it in him to dislike Crofton, who (apart from the whole keeping him captive thing) always remained polite and respectful and cordial. So, did that make Rüşen sane, or even more deluded than other people?

Thinking about it just made him feel ill, so at some point he made an effort to stop.

Crofton and Rüşen spoke of many things. Rüşen didn't always agree with Crofton, in fact, more often than not they disagreed, but it was stimulating to have someone to debate with that was on a similar intellectual level, albeit with different sets of values. Since Crofton was involved in an art foundation board for managing grants to various kinds of artists, a lot of their conversations revolved around the arts and the philosophies (or lack thereof) that they were based on, but after a while Crofton started talking about their cause — a radical reformation of society as they knew it, to abolish the oppression of the current government. Rüşen found this preposterous, this government wasn't 'oppressing' anyone! Crofton just smiled sadly, and said, that, hopefully he'd be able to show Rüşen everything in a history book, from their new era.

This night though (or day, or morning, Rüşen wasn't sure) they were silently playing chess. It felt strange to play with actual pieces in physical space. There was a weight to the wooden pieces, and Crofton said he enjoyed the soft thud of when the protective padding under them hit the board. Rüşen didn't quite understand it, but welcomed the change of pace nonetheless. Although not speaking did leave him alone with his thoughts.

"...Crofton?" he finally asked.

"Hmm?" Crofton moved a piece, taking one of Rüşen’s pawns in the process, then looked up to meet Rüşen's gaze. "What is it?"

For a moment he hesitated, unsure if he really wanted to know.

"Are they still looking for me?"

Crofton pursed his lips for a moment. He always did that whenever Rüşen (or Iacchus) said something that he didn't quite appreciate, or know quite how to respond to, so Rüşen half-expected him to not answer his query.

"No. Not actively."

Rüşen nodded slowly. He wasn't entirely certain that Crofton was being entirely truthful, but it was the answer he had expected, and he supposed it could be true. The chess game ended at an impasse, with two lone kings on the board.

 

He dreamed of Crofton being very close and very gentle, and woke up incredibly confused about the lack of his presence and his "change" in location to the room that had been made into his bedroom. It took him several moments to realise that the dream had never happened and that he'd just been sleeping regularly in the bed he'd been assigned. Well, except with an embarrassing stiffness in his lower regions. It wasn't like it had never happened before, but he hadn't been exactly feeling up to anything since he'd been kidnapped, so to now suddenly have a morning (?) erection after having dreamt of his kidnapper was somewhat disturbing to him. He also was at a loss about how to deal with it, because he didn't want to wait for it to pass on its own in case Crofton or Iacchus walked in on him and saw, but he also didn't want to take care of it quickly because that would be even more mortifying if they saw.

Suddenly, he had an epiphany. The bathroom. Of course. They had never bothered him when he was in the bathroom, so he saw no reason for them to suddenly do so now. He'd just have to get out of bed and quickly deal with it and then shower and get dressed as usual—

The door to the hallway opened when he was halfway to the bathroom, and in came Iacchus. Rüşen froze. Iacchus stopped short, noticing Rüşen's state of undress. Then his one visible eye travelled down, and he sneered. Rüşen burned with embarrassment as Iacchus wordlessly put down the food tray on a table, still sneering, and left.

When he finally made it into the bathroom there was nothing left to take care of, but he still decided that he probably wasn't leaving it for the next three or four meals. Or ever.

 

He didn't know how long he spent on the bathroom floor before he finally mustered the energy to shower and get dressed, but apparently it wasn't as long as it had felt like, because no one had touched the breakfast tray once he got out. The rest of the day passed pretty much as usual except that Rüşen was a lot more self-conscious and flustered than usual. If Iacchus had told Crofton about earlier, or if Crofton noticed Rüşen's strange behaviour (which Rüşen had trouble imagining Crofton missing), he did not mention it. This was at once a relief and a problem, because on the one hand Rüşen avoided confrontation on the matter, but on the other hand he didn't like not knowing what others knew or not. Knowing had always been his job, and being wrong could have fatal consequences. While he didn't feel like his life was threatened at the moment, working like that did leave its traces, and he couldn't shake the feeling of unease.

He had expected to forget about it quickly, but the dreams wouldn't leave him alone. In fact, they only became more frequent and graphic. Convinced it was because of his own frustration, he tried to deal with the issue in private in the bathroom. It did help solve the most immediate problems, but he still found it hard to push the memories of the dreams out of his mind when faced with Crofton in person, and he couldn't help but feel very obvious when he tried to breathe calmly while struggling to keep up with the conversation. Still, Crofton said nothing as long as Rüşen managed to keep the conversation going. It wasn't until Rüşen started zoning out while daydreaming that Crofton finally addressed the issue.

"Rüşen, did you hear me?"

Rüşen jumped, snatched out of his reveries, feeling like he was blushing, but having no way to tell for sure.

"Sorry, I spaced out a bit, what did you say?"

Crofton pursed his lips.

"Are you okay? You've been behaving strangely lately."

"Yes, I'm okay, I've just been... sleeping poorly." It wasn't like he could tell the man that he was having sexual fantasies about him to his face.

"For a behavioural specialist, you're not very good at lying," Crofton said with a huff of laughter.

"It's not a lie," Rüşen retorted. It wasn't. It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie.

"Maybe not," Crofton granted, "but you're not doing a very good job of — covering up — the truth, either."

Rüşen didn't even have to glance down to guess what Crofton was getting at, and he groaned. He almost wished that Crofton and Iacchus had been the cruel kind of abductors, then at least he'd be able to hate them and be rid of this mortifying problem.

"Forgive me if I presume wrongly," Crofton started carefully, "But are you attracted to me?"

Rüşen covered his face with his hand, but in the end it wasn't like it wasn't painfully obvious already, and he was tired of trying to cover things up, so what the hell: "Yes."

Crofton was silent for an unusually long while, so finally Rüşen lowered his hand to meet his gaze.

Crofton cleared his throat.

"Well, I'd decided to not say anything from the beginning, since the risk that you'd force yourself to do things against your will to not upset your captor was too great and I wasn't interested in that kind of power dynamic, but..." Crofton took a deep breath. Rüşen couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was pretty sure he must have just fallen asleep at some point and was dreaming everything and he'd wake up at home in bed feeling embarrassed about this super-strange dream and then just go to work and live a normal life. "If you'd want to, we could get more intimate? I promise I wouldn't do anything without your consent." At Rüşen's raised eyebrows, Crofton added: "So long as you don't try to harm me or escape, of course."

"Of course," Rüşen said, dryly, but sarcasm aside, he found himself actually considering it...

"We could... try..."

The smile Crofton gave him then did a pretty good job at erasing his doubts.

 

Crofton had meant it quite literally when he'd said that he wouldn't do anything without Rüşen's consent. This basically meant that Rüşen had to tell him what to do, or he wouldn't do anything. While Rüşen had certainly asked past partners to do things to him before, it had usually been a reaction to something they'd already been doing, like, no, don't do this, or please, continue doing that, or along those lines.

This was quite different. Crofton didn't even undress himself or make a single move without Rüşen asking him to, or guiding him, as giving orders through words felt too strange. Rüşen was used to being right and to having his words taken seriously and become a part of orders, but he'd never been the kind of person to give them himself. And especially in this situation, where asking for something meant exposing his desires to someone who was still relatively unknown to himself, it made him incredibly nervous.

But, admittedly, not in an entirely bad way. Crofton was apparently pretty good at taking orders when there was something in it for himself as well. Rüşen's judgement might well have been clouded, but Crofton did seem to be genuinely enjoying himself as well. Afterwards Rüşen would be thinking about whether that came purely from physical pleasure, or if it was because — despite Rüşen being the one giving the orders — Crofton still derived pleasure from effectively manipulating Rüşen into exposing himself on an intimately personal level. At the time, however, Rüşen didn't give a damn about such things, as he could finally rid himself of over two weeks' worth of frustration while getting someone as beautiful as Crofton to tend to his every whim exactly in the way he wanted it to happen, to then finally fall asleep utterly spent enveloped in his arms. Finally he slept well.

 

After a couple of nights Rüşen found the courage to tell Crofton that he'd rather that Crofton took the initiative occasionally, and Crofton complied, although he still took everything Rüşen said very literally. On one hand Rüşen was glad that Crofton respected his wishes, but on the other hand he was now pretty sure that Crofton got a kick out of manipulating Rüşen into giving him orders, because whenever Rüşen asked him to not do something (usually through a meek "stop" whenever Crofton did something that he wasn't even necessarily against, but just surprised by), Crofton stopped doing anything so that Rüşen had to tell him to resume, and specify what exactly to resume with. Even though Rüşen was aware of this manipulation taking place he couldn't deny that he enjoyed being able to give orders that were followed unconditionally, but it was precisely the fact that he enjoyed it that embarrassed him so much. Seeing how much Crofton enjoyed it did partially make up for it, though.

They didn't only sleep together though; they still maintained their conversations and game sessions, although they sat a lot closer now. Actually, most of the time Crofton just straight up pulled Rüşen into his lap, unless they were playing chess, which required them to be opposite each other for them to make sense of the movements of the pieces. It had felt a little belittling at first, but he did enjoy the closeness in general, and when Rüşen mentioned this and they tried to switch positions it just ended up awkward since Crofton was too tall. It had been funny, though.

"Oh, so that's what you've been up to? Fraternising with the enemy?"

Rüşen jumped at suddenly hearing Iacchus' voice and instinctively tried to get up from where he'd been lying sprawled over Crofton in a sofa. Crofton briefly tightened his hold on Rüşen's waist, keeping him in place until it seemed like he would stay.

"He's not the enemy, Iacchus," Crofton said with exasperation in his voice. "Are you feeling left out?"

Iacchus' eyebrow twitched, and he glared at Rüşen for a second, but he didn't say anything.

"Always so honest," Crofton chuckled. Rüşen glanced at him. 'Honest' wasn't exactly the first word to come to mind for him when he thought about Iacchus, but to be fair, he didn't know him at all, really. "Why don't you join us? He's surprisingly good."

Rüşen flushed. He was glad to hear praise from Crofton, but he didn't really want to hear it presented in that way, and especially not while he was laying on top of him with Iacchus towering over them.

"Don't I get a say in this?" He asked nervously.

"Yes." "No." Crofton and Iacchus said at the same time. "Yes, he does," Crofton rolled his eyes at Iacchus. "But do consider it," Crofton said earnestly, looking Rüşen in the eye with a straight face, "Iacchus isn't all that bad either."

Rüşen still had his doubts, but Iacchus didn't seem to be objecting, for some reason. Could it really have been that he was jealous? To the point where he'd agree to be in a threesome with someone he didn't really even like?! It was incredibly weird, and if it had been anyone else asking, Rüşen would have said no in a heartbeat, but this was the first thing Crofton had asked of him. He bit his lip nervously.

"...Fine," he mumbled finally, "We can try it."

Crofton grinned and kissed him on the forehead.

 

At first Rüşen was very nervous — unlike Crofton, Iacchus had made no promises to stop and listen, and indeed, he did not. Still, Rüşen couldn't dislike it, because Crofton had been right: Iacchus was good. His hands were seemingly everywhere at first, trying everything, and quickly figured out what Rüşen wanted without him ever having the time to find his breath to tell him off for the things he didn't like. If Crofton offered him total control, Iacchus promised him none — but instead he did his damndest to prove that he was the best.

Flustered, Rüşen clung to Crofton, hiding his face against his chest as Iacchus' fingering dragged low moans out of him. Crofton held him gently. Rüşen could feel him stiffen against his thigh, but he seemed content with just observing for now, and caressing him with minute movements that, despite their gentleness, left Rüşen's skin burning in their wake.

Suddenly Iacchus' fingers were gone, and Rüşen made a frustrated whine before something thicker penetrated him, cutting him off. Iacchus pressed his entire body up against Rüşen while pushing in, in turn pressing him against Crofton, whose grip on Rüşen grew sturdier, but otherwise remained still.

"Aah..." His entire body felt hot and tingly, his fingers and thighs shaking as he fought to hold on and remain upright. Iacchus pulled back slightly, taking a firm grip on Rüşen's hips, and then pushed in hard. Rüşen moaned once more, pleasure jolting up his spine, making his knees weak. Without Crofton and Iacchus’ support he would have toppled over, but as it was, there was nowhere for him to fall. He could feel Crofton getting harder, erection brushing up against Rüşen's stomach. Iacchus repeated the procedure, and Rüşen felt himself getting close to coming. In defiance, he took Crofton’s hand and wrapped it around his dick. He didn't want Iacchus to be the one to make him come.

"Hold tight," he managed to stutter out between thrusts, and Crofton did as he said with a huff of laughter, keeping him from coming even as Iacchus started thrusting faster, breathing heavier against Rüşen's neck. Then Iacchus thrust in hard and came, and then quickly pulled out to roll over to the side, panting. Rüşen was desperate to follow after, but Crofton's grip remained.

Crofton stroked Rüşen's face, bending down to whisper in his ear.

"Do you want me inside you as well?"

Rüşen nodded, still breathing heavily. He was glad Crofton had guessed what he wanted; he wasn't sure he was capable of putting together a coherent sentence anymore, he wanted to come so bad.

Crofton helped Rüşen straddle him, and because he had to let go of his dick to hold on to him Rüşen came almost immediately once Crofton started thrusting, his entire body trembling. Crofton gently laid him down, but kept thrusting, Rüşen's body pulsating with throbbing pleasure, until Crofton, too, came, pulled out and wrapped himself around the exhausted Rüşen. He kissed him on the lips before the two of them fell asleep.

 

Later Rüşen would wake up, feeling pleasantly warm all over, and notice that Iacchus was gone. Crofton was still holding onto him firmly in his sleep, though, and Rüşen had no desire to move whatsoever. Contently breathing in his warm scent, he drifted back off to sleep.

 

When Rüşen woke up the next time, Crofton was no longer holding on to him as tight, but he was still there, playing with Rüşen's hair.

"Good morning," he said softly. Rüşen squinted at him.

"Is it morning?"

Crofton laughed. "Yes, it is."

Usually Crofton was gone when Rüşen woke up, or Rüşen woke up when Crofton was leaving, but this time Crofton didn't seem to be in a hurry anywhere.

"Don't you need to be somewhere?"

Crofton hummed. "But I figured you might need some extra care today," he teased.

Rüşen grimaced.

"I am feeling very sore," he muttered, "But what were you planning on doing about that?"

"Well," Crofton took Rüşen's hand and kissed it lightly, sending a shiver down his spine. "I figured a massage might help."

"Uh... I guess? Maybe?" Rüşen had never really had a massage, so he didn't know what they were good for, really.

Crofton started rubbing Rüşen's palm with his thumbs. "It might hurt a little bit sometimes if your muscles are really tight, and that's normal, but tell me if it starts to hurt a lot."

"What do you mean by 'a lot'?" Rüşen asked nervously as Crofton's hands travelled up his arm, gently applying pressure as thought he was trying to smoothen it out.

"Well, if you start feeling like you might cry it's probably time to stop," Crofton joked, moving on to the other arm. Rüşen snorted, but said nothing, watching Crofton as he methodically went over every muscle, and Rüşen could feel them gradually loosen up. It did feel nice...

Once Crofton was satisfied with the other arm he looked up at Rüşen again.

"Would you rather I started with your chest or your back?"

Chest seemed like it might be terribly embarrassing, so: "Back," Rüşen said, rolling over. He hadn't counted on the weight that ended up on top of his thighs, though; Crofton had straddled his legs to get a better angle. Suddenly Rüşen wasn't sure if this had been the better choice. If he'd chosen chest he'd at least have been able to see what Crofton was doing...

Crofton seemed to be able to feel Rüşen get tense, because he chuckled when he started to gently knead Rüşen's shoulders. "Relax," he murmured with a soothing tone. Rüşen breathed out and did his best to relax. Crofton hummed in approval and continued to move his hands in larger and larger circles over Rüşen's back. It didn't hurt, exactly, but he did feel like a sort of resistance in his body at first that bordered on pain. Crofton's methodical touch helped unravel the sore knots, though, and after a while — when he stopped trying to predict and prepare himself for every touch and learned to just enjoy it — he closed his eyes and let his thoughts melt away under Crofton's warm hands.

 

"Sir? Sir, are you listening?"

Crofton returned to reality, supressing a sigh. Although being on the committee that decided which art projects would get funding or not was interesting, as he got to be part of the journey of people who were more creative and skilled than himself, there was a lot of discussions and paperwork involved that was, quite frankly, murderously boring. He'd managed to remain undetected in his uninvolvement up until now, but he supposed he'd have had to focus sooner or later anyway. Reluctantly he pushed his fantasies about Rü (clinging to him and moaning), aside and returned to the real world.

"Sorry, I started thinking a bit about Liu Chen's project a bit, since they share some similar themes," he lied smoothly, arranging his expression into a politely apologetic, but unashamed, expression. In the end, maybe if he could focus on the discussion and just work he'd forget about time and suddenly it would be time to go meet up with Aka.

He glanced at his ring. A small holographic screen appeared, showing the time.

Four hours left.

 

Iacchus lay on the sad excuse of a sofa with his head up on one arm rest, and his feet — boots still on — on the other, watching Crofton. Although he knew that prudence and patience was of utmost importance for their plan to succeed, it was frustrating to just lie there and do nothing while Crofton silently coordinated the other members' actions across the country. Iacchus was decent at reviewing and organising incoming information, so he could at least help Crofton with that while Crofton was otherwise occupied, but he lacked the delicacy needed for a plan of this magnitude. If it had been left up to him he'd just have set the hackers loose on the government and military systems and then gone to the Parliament with guns blazing, but all the smart people involved insisted that the changes they wanted had to be brought about without obvious violent acts, and they were probably right. Crofton, at least, was always right, as far as Iacchus was concerned.

Except for Cro's infatuation with the hostage. Just because they had similar interests on a superficial level, and could play chess. Iacchus remembered Cro mentioning that he thought that the guy was cute too, though Iacchus couldn't see it. He supposed he wasn't butt-ugly, but he wouldn't go so far as to call him 'cute'.

Still, they had completely different outlook on life and political beliefs. They were on opposite sides, and the guy was even working directly for the system they were trying to overthrow!

And still, Iacchus had had sex with them. He wasn't quite sure why he'd let that happen. (But only because he didn't really want to think about it too hard — if he examined his feelings closer he'd just discover that he was jealous about Cro treating that guy better than he was treating Iacchus, even though they'd known each other much longer. It wasn't like they were officially in a relationship, so he didn't really have anything he could pin Crofton with either, but it still stung quite a bit.) He'd probably do literally anything Crofton asked of him though, even if it meant dying. He didn't say that light-heartedly, either; there was a very real risk that he'd end up snuffing it at any time. In that case, he concluded, sharing Cro with that guy was, compared to not being with Cro at all, the lesser of two evils. Cro just seemed happy to have them both there, and in the end, Cro's happiness weighed a bit heavier than his own pride.

He waited until Cro seemed to be a bit less occupied before he spoke up.

"If you're gonna sleep with him tonight, I'll join you."

Cro laughed that way that he always did when he saw right through Iacchus.

"If he agrees, you're welcome to."

Iacchus didn't really give a rat's ass about what that guy thought about it, but Cro's word was law.

 

It had certainly felt weird when Iacchus started hanging out with them, or, more accurately, hanging out by them, as Iacchus rarely interacted with them, and if he did he never directly addressed Rüşen, only Crofton. As a result, Rüşen did the same. Crofton hadn't seemed entirely pleased that the two of them weren't communicating, so Rüşen had tried to talk to Iacchus a bit at first, but it felt so utterly devoid of meaning to try to speak to someone who didn't even acknowledge him in the slightest that he soon gave up.

Still, Iacchus only ever really touched Rüşen when the three of them were in bed, even though Rüşen were pretty sure that Iacchus and Crofton had had sex together before from what Rüşen managed to piece together from the things they said. It confused Rüşen terribly, but he never asked why. Iacchus would certainly never answer, and he doubted Crofton would reply with an explanation that would make Rüşen understand either. Crofton would joke with Iacchus and go pretty far in his teasing, but never explicitly reveal anything that Iacchus didn't seem to want to talk about. A lot of things probably also touched on things related to their cause that they couldn't share with Rüşen, too.

That probably frustrated Rüşen more than Iacchus' mysterious motives for sticking around even though Rüşen was pretty sure he was disliked. Not that Crofton and Iacchus wouldn't tell him of their plans — regardless of whether it actually was for good or evil or somewhere in between, it was clear that it was illegal to some degree, and in opposition to the current constitution of the country. Something in the way Crofton and Iacchus talked gave Rüşen the impression that not even Iacchus was fully aware of the whole plan, and depending on the scale of the operation and where they were in the hierarchy it was possible that not even Crofton knew everything.

But the fact that Crofton wouldn't even elaborate on what exactly it was that they were fighting was incredibly frustrating. How was Rüşen supposed to be able to make any sort of accurate judgement about anything if he didn't even know something so fundamental? On a very basic level they did get along — that much was painfully obvious — but the uncertainty of how much was even real remained a thorn in Rüşen's side. Their values seemed similar, so what if Rüşen would even sympathise with their cause? They knew what he had been doing for a living — they knew he could be an asset. Surely they also could see that if Rüşen joined them it would make them stronger? And if it turned out that what they were doing was something despicable, it wasn't like Rüşen could go and tell anyone. He was still stuck here (wherever 'here' was).

Rüşen was convinced that Crofton had already thought of this, though, so he didn't push the issue. Clearly, there was something in Crofton's reasoning that went beyond Rüşen's own due to variables that Rüşen didn't know of, and since Crofton apparently wasn't going to share the information Rüşen lacked, Rüşen would never be able to figure out Crofton's reasoning. Unless Crofton was planning on sharing his reasons at a later, 'appropriate', time. This was the hope that Rüşen clung to when he failed to push the worries out of his mind.

 

It happened that Rüşen didn't see Crofton for a couple of days when either work or their cause or something else kept him busy. Unless it was about something art-related that Crofton found interesting he would be very sparse about how much he told Rüşen about the times that he was gone. If it was more than an evening, Iacchus would be the one to bring Rüşen anything he might need, only speaking when strictly necessary. It got lonely and boring, even though Crofton was very good at guessing Rüşen's taste in literature, but Rüşen was never really worried. Crofton would always come back and shower Rüşen in affection, intensity increasing in direct relation to how long he'd been away. Rüşen would just have to keep alternating reading, sleeping and eating.

Rüşen instantly realised that something was wrong when Iacchus approached him to speak. Rüşen had never seen him look so tense before, and although the glare was familiar, the uncertainty in his body language and the way he fidgeted was entirely new. Rüşen immediately got himself into an upright, standing position — he didn't know Iacchus nearly well enough to know if this was going to be a precursor to aggressive and potentially violent behaviour, and Crofton was not around to impose any limits. Still, he tried to keep his own body language neutral and inoffensive so as to not appear vulnerable or provocative.

"Crofton got arrested," Iacchus snapped at Rüşen, as though it was his fault, spinning around, taking some angry steps away before rubbing his face, and turning back towards him. He was trying his best to keep up a facade, but Rüşen could tell that Iacchus was just scared. The problem was that that could still be fatal for Rüşen. "I don't think they know who he is, he got caught up in a bar brawl, wrong place wrong time," Iacchus rambled, "But if they start investigating him they might find something really bad, a-and we just can't afford that to happen right now." He took one shaky breath. "He has a poison pill with him, and he'll eat it if it seems like he can't get out without risking a search. When he dies it will send an alert to all our partners and wipe all his devices, but I don't want that!" Towards the end, Iacchus was shouting, clenching his hands into fists to keep his fingers from shaking. "Crofton can't send any messages now and I don't know how to contact the other members myself, I don't even know how to work his devices!"

For the first time in what was probably weeks Iacchus looked Rüşen straight in the eyes.

"Please help us!"

 

Rüşen froze on the spot when he stepped outside. He didn't know how long he'd been underground, and the world didn't seem to have changed much from what he remembered, but seeing the sky, seeing the sun, was...

...not as great as he had expected it would be? He recognised the street name as being from the same city he lived — had lived? — in, but he had no real recognition of it, as he'd never been there. There were people he didn't know, and with whom he didn't know how to interact. There was so much space. Rather than free, he felt unsafe. It was not at all like he'd imagined it would feel like when he first was kidnapped.

He didn't have time to think about it much more, however, as Iacchus silently hurried him along out into the street. Seeing the outside world for the first time in so long — and without a digital device to guide him — made him anxious, so to avoid having to think about it, he kept his eyes on the only thing familiar to him, Iacchus' back. They hurriedly walked along, attracting some annoyed glances from passer-by whom they nearly bumped into, but none of them looked at Rüşen with recognition, none of them raised the alarm. They didn't realise he was the one who'd disappeared all that time ago. He was safe.

Rüşen started to panic a bit as Iacchus led him down the stairs of a subway station; being underground again felt good, but there was so many people. Not to mention that Rüşen no longer carried a personal identifier, how on Earth were they going to buy tickets?

But they didn't go towards the platforms at all, instead Iacchus pulled him into a small crevasse in the wall, through a door and into a service passageway. Leaving all the people and the noise behind felt wonderful, but there was no time to appreciate the silence; they pressed on.

Eventually, they climbed a ladder and emerged in the blinding sunlight again, only for a few steps, before they ducked into a building; private housing, Rüşen guessed. Inside, his suspicions were confirmed by lists of tenants and rows of mailboxes, but they rushed past these as well. Five floors up, Iacchus opened a door — with a traditional, metal key, and not a digital pass, Rüşen noted — but the speed of everything was maintained until Rüşen was finally pushed into a chair in front of a large monitor. A video feed showed him Crofton in a holding cell. He seemed calm and as proper as ever, but Iacchus most certainly was not.

"Do... whatever, just get him out fast, somehow!"

Such an unreasonable request. Rüşen smiled despite himself. He was used to accommodate such requests, with little or no thanks. He started pulling up all the information he could find locally on the network, quickly skimming through everything, reading some things more closely. Iacchus tried to stop him: "You're not allowed to look at those," he snarled at Rüşen, who snapped back at him.

"If I don't know exactly what I'm dealing with when I fabricate this release order I could end up accidentally leading them on to something else that is even worse." Rüşen found a scrap of the authoritative attitude he used to have before somewhere deep inside him, and ignored Iacchus while continuing to dig up information about their activities. "If you think it makes me more dangerous when I know all of this you can just knock me out and tie me up again, but since you brought me here I don't think you will."

Iacchus didn't seem happy with this change in Rüşen's attitude, but also didn't say anything to contradict him. (It was true, after all, he could just knock him out whenever.)

He didn't have the time to be outraged and reflect upon his own moral stance when he pulled up one horrifying file after another, but it was immediately clear to him that his earlier excuse for digging through their files was actually truer than he'd anticipated.

He'd heard the name of the facilities before — they were maximum security working camps for criminals. At least, that's what they were officially. If these files were authentic, they were also used to imprison anyone who spoke out too loudly about the government, or who might have reason to do so if given the opportunity. These were usually pinned with crimes they hadn't committed with evidence that didn't exist, but there were also people who were simply reported 'missing'. Some files showed images of skeletons of unknown people who would never be identified, but which were clearly too recently deceased to be of people from the distant past. It suddenly became very clear to Rüşen that the threat to Crofton's safety was very real, and went beyond a couple of years in prison.

With renewed urgency, he went to work.

 

Iacchus hovered over his shoulder the entire time while Rüşen manipulated different databases little by little in order to cover up any trail that could possibly incriminate Crofton in relation to his current situation. He left things like a parking ticket and similar, though, that wouldn't lead to any further investigation; if he changed too much something was bound to not line up somewhere, and someone would get suspicious. Rüşen already had to go into a number of different servers in order to fully change even a small thing, if he didn't and he missed something somewhere it could trigger an alert somewhere due to information not matching up.

Fortunately, he didn't have too much to change, Crofton and Iacchus truly had been careful. He couldn't even see any traces of them interacting anywhere past a certain point in time. That had to require some planning and skill from both of them; Rüşen was impressed. If you looked carefully you could see their paths crossing occasionally, but that was bound to happen when people lived in the same part of the city. It was nothing abnormal at all, and Rüşen doubted he'd have ever noticed if he hadn't known for a fact that the two were actually very intimate.

Since he'd been involved in a brawl some questioning was naturally unavoidable, but for Crofton's part it went by rather swiftly. As Rüşen had guessed, Crofton hadn't been violent himself, but had stepped in between two of the fighting people and mistakenly gotten arrested along with them in the confusion. His story matched up with the others', and he was released shortly.

Iacchus left immediately, locking the door firmly behind him and leaving Rüşen alone. Rüşen worried that Iacchus might do something hasty in his emotional state, but it wasn't like he could have stopped Iacchus from doing anything anyway. They probably had some sort of protocol for situations like these to meet up safely. If Iacchus fucked up, it was on him.

While Iacchus was gone Rüşen took the opportunity to catch up on the outside world. He had been gone for just under two years. While he was officially still listed as missing, no searches were actively being carried out, and many presumed him dead.

Including, apparently, his parents. While it was understandable, considering the time he'd been gone, and even though they had never been terribly close, it still stung quite a bit. He chose to not read more about them.

Everything, of what little Crofton had told Rüşen about himself, as far as facts about his outside life was concerned, seemed to be true. Rüşen didn't stop to cross-check every single detail about all the art projects Crofton had been involved in through the committee, but quickly skimming news articles confirmed the things he knew. Seeing as he didn't create anything himself and didn't seem to contribute any large sums to any project personally he was only ever briefly mentioned, if at all, but his administrative, diplomatic and organisational contributions weren't restricted only to art. He seemed to have been involved in all sorts of projects, and seemed to have a good reputation among people who needed people like him for their business.

Iacchus wasn't at all a public figure, so all Rüşen could find was some unprotected receipts and his general movement patterns, none of which were remarkable (unless you knew that some specific locations were remarkable), along with his contract of employment, as a store clerk at a store that specialised in music, and in particular vintage CDs. They even boasted a collection of vinyl records. Rüşen was surprised to see them in circulation, he would have assumed that all remaining copies would have been absorbed into various private and public collections by now, seeing as they'd be unplayable for the general population.

It felt so strange to read about their outside lives, even if it wasn't much. He wondered when he'd even stopped wondering about them.

 

There was a lot Rüşen wanted to talk about, but he barely had the time to utter Crofton's name before arms were wrapped firmly around him and he was silenced by desperate lips against his own. He had half a mind to push Crofton away, but on the one hand, Crofton wouldn't let him create even a centimetre of distance between them, and on the other it wasn't like he hadn't been craving this either. He supposed that now that Crofton was out of immediate danger again they'd have time to talk later; and by the end of that thought he'd already forgotten what he'd wanted to talk about, curtesy of Crofton's fingers in his hair, Crofton's arm around his lower back, and Crofton's now slightly calmer, but deeper, kisses.

At the point when Rüşen could start feeling Crofton getting hard the latter broke contact only as much as was strictly necessary for him to guide Rüşen to another room with a bed. By the time they'd managed to get most of their clothes off (Crofton made everything needlessly complicated by laying on top of Rüşen and not wanting to allow any of that rude air to get between them) Iacchus arrived to the apartment as well. He didn't even seem all that annoyed by the way Crofton clung to Rüşen, which surprised Rüşen greatly. He'd have expected Iacchus to be annoyed to not get Crofton to himself after all this, but instead Iacchus just walked over, shedding his own clothes along the way, and placed himself on top, wrapping his arms around Crofton's waist (pressing against Rüşen's stomach) and pressing kisses up Crofton's neck (his long hair falling down, tickling Rüşen's ear). For a moment, Rüşen was worried that the weight was going to be uncomfortable, but since Iacchus was uncharacteristically still it turned out to be okay, if anything it just increased the friction as Crofton resumed grinding his hips, down against Rüşen and up against Iacchus, moaning softly. That did of course do a good job of getting Rüşen more aroused, but seeing Iacchus be so gentle towards Crofton only made him harder.

There wasn't much he himself could do though; he was properly pinned down under the two other men, and had very little space to move. He tried breaking the kiss to ask them to hurry it up a little, he badly wanted to come, but Crofton would have none of it, and although Rüşen could tell that Crofton was plenty hard himself he seemed in no hurry, and it was frustrating. Good, still, but oh, so frustrating.

Fortunately, it wasn't long before Iacchus, too, ran out of patience and started thrusting harder, which in turn shoved Crofton harder against Rüşen. Rüşen could have kissed Iacchus, if only that hadn't been completely impossible. Iacchus and Rüşen both came close after each other, and then finally Crofton too. Iacchus rolled off towards the edge of the bed, and Crofton gently nudged Rüşen up towards the wall before settling between the two of them. He didn't hold either of them, but made sure that he could feel both of them against his skin before letting himself drift off to sleep, serene.

 

When Rüşen woke up he found himself in Crofton's arms, with Crofton's face buried in his hair. Surprisingly, Iacchus was still there, asleep, his back against Crofton's. Rüşen couldn't recall Iacchus ever having remained in bed with them until he woke up. He must have been really worried.

He felt warm and safe next to Crofton, feeling his soft breathing as he slept on, but as soon as he remembered everything he'd learned the day before he got a bit anxious. He could stay, he realised. Nothing had to change. But maybe, just maybe, it should? According to the law it certainly should. According to common sense, according to other people's opinion, according to everything he'd been raised to believe in, he should not be staying.

But even if he wanted to leave, could he even live among regular people in the real world anymore? He remembered the outside as he'd experienced it now. So vast, unpredictable, loud and scary. He could probably get used to it again though, if he tried. He'd seen others make it. But did he want to? He remembered the documents he'd gone through the day before, all the atrocities they accused his government, his employers, of doing. Did he want to return to that?

There were so many complicated feelings to sort through, and he was so confused. The only thing he knew was that he had to reach some sort of decision.

At some point. Later.

He needed more sleep first.

 

Iacchus sat out in the hallway while the long interrogation between Crofton and Rüşen took place, eating the takeout lunch he'd brought them. It wasn't like the other two had kicked them out of the other room, but he didn't particularly want to be part of any decision-making the two were up to. He still wasn't sure if he wanted Rüşen to stay, there were still plenty of aspects about him that irked Iacchus, but there was no denying that he owed Rüşen for the day before. If Crofton and Rüşen decided that Rüşen was going to stay, he'd say nothing against it.

Maybe he could learn to like Rüşen better. He'd already admitted to himself that they at least were a fairly good match physically. And it wasn't like the other man was a total heap of trash. Iacchus was very well aware that Rüşen could have abused Iacchus' frail trust and gotten both him and Crofton locked up for good instead of cleared from danger. As a hostage, Rüşen would have faced no consequences for his actions. This proved that there was some sort of loyalty there, at least towards Crofton. As long as that part didn't change, Iacchus didn't need to know any motives. As long as Crofton was safe.

After a long while Crofton came out into the hallway, holding out a new mug of coffee to Iacchus. "Rüşen will be staying here now."

Iacchus accepted the coffee with a silent nod. So Rüşen had joined their cause.

 

The apartment had previously only really been used for work, so it was very sparsely furnished. Since Rüşen was moving in on a more permanent basis, however, it needed to be turned into something more liveable. Some basic furniture, some actual content to the fridge, some new clothes for Rüşen and some sets of change for Crofton and Iacchus, a new, bigger bed, and Crofton even brought over some art, to make the space "less depressing" (though Rüşen wasn't entirely sure that one certain painting was actually "brightening up the place" at all).

One day Crofton even came home with a personal device for Rüşen. It came in the shape of a pair of glasses — not like the ones he'd worn when they'd met, since they were government issued and not available to the general public, but definitely one of the fancier, better-performing models available on the market. With slim, but unyielding black frame and tasteful design, Rüşen was concerned they'd be snapped in half if he touched them, though he knew better: devices of this price class were unlikely to break even if a car ran them over. Possibly a fully loaded truck, but definitely not by Rüşen's hand. He gently placed them on the bridge of his nose, blinking at the nostalgic feeling at the UI fading into view in front of his eyes.

"The functions are very limited before they're bound to an identity, and we obviously can't use our real identifiers," Crofton said apologetically, "But I assume you'll be able to find a way around that, can't you?"

"Already half-way there," Rüşen mumbled, having found a way to force his way into the developer code.

Crofton smiled, pleased.

 

Adding Rüşen to the team allowed them to increase their efficiency exponentially. As he still couldn't walk around entirely freely, seeing as he was supposed to be dead, Rüşen took charge of the digital part of the operations that could be handled at a distance. Operating like this, without a personal identifier, was strangely exhilarating. Of course, he knew that even though he did his best to clean up after himself he would never be perfectly anonymous and untraceable. Even if this device wasn't connected to any personal identifier it still had an IP address that could be tracked if he was found out, but he did his damndest to make the job hard for anyone who might catch on to him.

Iacchus took care of all things that Crofton would be too publicly well-known and recognisable to handle out in the field, like loitering around in strange spaces to get information and buying ensembles of strange stuff to put together into things that weren't entirely legal; and Crofton took care of things that required charisma and more detailed technical knowledge, like persuading people to aid their cause or installing bugs that Rüşen put together with what Iacchus bought into devices in both public and private.

As they got closer to the big reveal, after years of hard, careful and meticulous work, Rüşen sat on his side of the screen, watching Crofton carefully bringing up just snippets of information to the mayor's secretary, trying to determine, based on their reactions, whether this person was someone they could sway. Rüşen's job was to monitor the secretary's personal devices to see what they might be doing while Crofton talked, as well as making sure that any messages to law enforcement wouldn't make it out. It seemed to be going well, however.

A while later, Crofton made the sign for Rüşen to send some of the evidence they'd accumulated over to the secretary.

"Welcome to the revolution," Rüşen mumbled under his breath as he hit 'send'.

 

"Of all the possible outcomes to this, I never expected you to put yourself on trial," Rüşen said dryly. "Why did I even bother keeping you out of jail?"

Crofton smiled at him, seemingly not bothered at all.

"I fought with unlawful means because I didn't believe in the people in power at the time and parts of the system," he said simply, "It's not like I was propagating complete anarchy and unlawfulness, and under the laws that I still agree with I still committed crimes. I didn't particularly wish for power either; I'm glad Ramírez stepped up as such a strong candidate for the elections. So since I'm not a dictator who can grant myself immunity, and I still want to be a part of the good parts of this new society, it also follows that I should be subject to the less pleasant parts of the law."

Rüşen snorted. "Even though no one else wants you to get imprisoned at all."

"Right," Crofton chuckled. "Got to lead by example."

Rüşen rolled his eyes.

"Says the one who kept the rest of us from being charged with anything."

Crofton chuckled again, before waving and heading into the court hall.

"It's not like I'll be gone nearly as long as I should, anyway."

"You'd better not," Rüşen warned, raising a finger, "Otherwise me and Iacchus might have time to start liking each other instead!"


End file.
